Reflections

In the day’s mirror
you see a tall black man. 
Fingers of gold cattail
tremble, then you witness
the rope dangling from
a limb of white oak.
It’s come to this.
You yell his direction,
the wind taking 
your voice away.
You holler his mama’s name 
& he glances up at the red sky. 
You can almost 
touch what he’s thinking, 
reaching for his hand
across the river.
The noose pendulous
over his head, 
you can feel him 
grow inside you, 
straining to hoist himself, 
climbing a ladder 
of air, your feet 
in his shoes.